A familiar sentence. The same he said the last time he woke me from a nightmare.
“I think I already told you your company isn’t needed.” Especially with the daemon in its state of thrashing.
“You were much friendlier earlier today.”
“Because I was drunk!”
“I thought it was only a little.”
“I lied.”
He snorts. “Go to sleep, pet.”
“I can’t even stretch out my legs!”
He lets out a hoarse snort. “I don’t believe that.”
I straighten my legs to prove my point, but they do, in fact, fit. He quirks one challenging brow. “They’re very close to you,” I grumble.
“Do you hear me complaining?”
I groan into the back of the couch before snapping my head back up. “Thought I was supposed to be yourpunishment?”
His eyes flare in surprise before he smirks. “Not having its intended effect. But I should’ve known. Always have been a glutton for punishment.”
“Have you always been this annoying?”
“Hmm, no, that’s specific to you, I think.”
“And why do you insist on annoying me?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs as if he really doesn’t. “I mean, look at these.” He snatches up one of my feet, holding it up with a gleam in his eye in a manner of someone showing me a small puppy instead of my own damn foot. I yank my foot back with a growl. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He crosses his arms against his chest, letting his eyelids drift shut as he leans back. “Must be protected.”
I growl as I smash my head into the back of the couch. What if the daemon reveals itself when I’m sleeping? I can’t have him coming out here to be my….guard dog, or whatever it is he thinks he is every time I have a nightmare. There’s not much for me to do aside from trying to forcibly kick him off the couch. Tempting…but I doubt my efforts will be fruitful.
I’ll just wait until he falls asleep and go claim his bed again. Despite my protests, his presence fills the room, lessening the sting of the nightmare and calming the daemon back into a steady thump. Before I can make my move, I slip back into sleep.
The days pass excruciatingly slow, with Sitri returning late and leaving early, every day looking a little wearier than he had the day before. My days are spent listless or pacing out the torment of the daemon, begging to be let out to destroy and ruin. It’s nearly a week later that Sitri returns in time for us to go eat dinner with Vera. I struggle to hide how desperately eager I am about that, and I can see the apologies in his eyes.
“I’m going to be in the castle tomorrow, so I thought tonight I could finally mark you,” he declares on our way to the kitchens.
Although I should be eager for a chance at a day out of his chambers, my gut sinks to the floor because the daemon has been practically dancing all day. As soon as we greet Vera, I quietly ask her for wine and inhale glass after glass until the daemon is deadened under its haze. Sitri’s brows inch further up his face with every subsequent glass I pour, and I ignore him.
By the time we’re hearkening back down the halls to his chambers, the daemon is barely noticeable, and my body is heavy and sluggish. I study the paintings of past Kings that we pass by a little more closely. “Is your father up here?”
Sitri's shoulders tense as he continues forward, ignoring me, like the last time I’d asked him about his parents. But then he stills, gesturing to the painting on his right. “This one.”
“Really?” I ask, treading forward to scrutinize the burly, somber-faced man.
He releases a mirthless laugh as he turns to face me, gaze not meeting the painting for a single second. “Do you think I’ve forgotten?”
I look back and forth between him and the painting. “No…it’s just you don’t really look like him. More like your mother, I think.” I quickly slap a hand over my mouth. Damn wine. Now he’ll know I’ve been rifling through his things. And that sketchbook didn’t just have a picture of his mother but one ofme,too.
His gaze turns shrewd as he presumably pieces it together. “Somebody’s been snooping,” he murmurs as he prowls forward until he’s leering directly over me.
“Y-you’re a very good artist.” I shift a few nervous steps back. He closes the distance again, picking up a strand of my hair and tossing it behind my shoulder. His lips scrunch to the side as he fights a grin.
